


read all about it

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Ben isn't paid enough for this, Karen relentlessly tries to catch their teen vigilante for an inside scoop, M/M, Matt puts on a dumb mask and beats up bullies, Newspapers, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen founded the newspaper during their freshman year with some vague mission statement about truth and justice and dragged Foggy and, by natural extension, Matt into it. Secretly, they both care as much about truth and justice as she does, but personally Foggy was planning on saving up all that caring for law school and spending the next four to eight years just getting by on his charm and natural talent.</p><p>“Think of how good it will look on your college applications,” Karen said, brightly, at the time.</p><p>“I’ll be the photographer,” Matt had offered, and then Foggy cracked up and everything went pear-shaped and now he’s spent the better part of his high school experience writing copy and tracking down interviews and doing anything that Karen asks of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Things I shouldn't be doing: posting another Daredevil WIP. 
> 
> Things I am doing: POSTING ANOTHER DAREDEVIL WIP. 
> 
> Hi, hello, your fandom has swallowed me entirely. And somehow I'm actually still writing all of them, which never happens. Also, I literally posted this last night as a prompt for the Kink Meme and then stayed up for two hours immediately afterwards because I got inspired to actually write it, because I'm trash.

The newspaper office, which is just Mr. Urich’s classroom after the final bell rings, smells like coffee and regret and seven hours worth of teenagers. Foggy’s gamely ignoring it in favor of looking at Marci Stahl’s new Facebook profile picture, which is borderline not safe for work but absolutely a blessing to the world. He doesn’t even notice when Karen comes up behind him and steals the mouse to click out of the browser.  
  
“How dare you,” Foggy deadpans.  
  
“We can talk about how hot Marci is later,” Karen says. “But we have to finish the layout by 4:00 or it won’t get to the printers in time to get out by tomorrow morning.”  
  
“First of all, will you promise me that we can talk about that later? Because I have _thoughts_ ,” Foggy says, and Karen makes a vaguely acquiescing gesture because clearly she also has thoughts, because who wouldn’t. A _dead_ person, maybe, somebody without a _pulse_. “Second of all, what would really happen if the paper didn’t go out tomorrow?”  
  
“I would be sad,” Karen says, voice measured and only mostly terrifying, “and our readers wouldn’t get their news.”   
  
“Our readers?” Foggy asks, skeptically.   
  
“We _have readers_ ,” Karen says, even though there’s a lot of evidence to the contrary there. She sits on the edge of the desk to frown at him. “Don’t be a dick to me right now, not when we actually have a story that’s founded in something other than wild speculation for once.”  
  
Foggy opens InDesign and the front page headline is big and bold on the screen:   
  
**_MASKED VIGILANTE STRIKES AGAIN_**  
  
“Our favorite kid superhero,” Foggy says, fondly. “I’ll admit, that’s a story.”  
  
“ _Our_ story,” Karen says. “Our story which will be in every classroom by tomorrow morning, because you are going to finish the layout right now.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, turning around to steal the cup of coffee from her hand and drink half of it in one go. Karen lets him, because she loves him, really, and she’s mostly a benevolent dictator.   
  
Once he’s finished adjusting the layout to make up for some missing gaps, they read through it one last time for final edits. Technically, Mr. Urich’s supposed to have the final say before the paper goes to print, but he’s pretty much given up on having any control over Karen at this point because he’s an extremely sane and rational person. He’s mostly just here to give them an air of legitimacy and, also, because he’s forced to supervise at least one extracurricular activity.   
  
Right as Karen hits send on the email to the printers, Matt walks in.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” he says. “Did I miss it?”  
  
“The ceremonial email attachment?” Foggy asks. “Yes, you did, and sadly you’ll have to wait two whole weeks for the chance to experience it again.”   
  
“You may just have to reenact it for me then,” Matt says, and he sounds out of breath. When Foggy looks up at him for real, he sees that Matt’s flushed and his clothes are all askew, which could probably mean a lot of things but Foggy’s pretty sure it could _only mean one thing_.   
  
“Matthew _Mur_ dock,” Foggy says.  
  
“. . .yes?”   
  
“Did you just screw somebody on school grounds?” Foggy demands. Karen looks delighted, and Mr. Urich, reading a paperback in the corner, makes a noise like he’s already died several times today.  
  
Matt pauses. It’s a very long pause, a suspiciously long pause, even.  
  
“I bet it was what’s-her-name,” Karen says, nudging Foggy. “The future doctor.”  
  
“ _Claire_ ,” Foggy says. “Tell me it was Claire.”  
  
“It was not Claire,” Matt says, laughing in that way that makes Foggy’s heart do funny horrible things that he still refuses to acknowledge. “Now, let me hear the final draft.”  
  
“He just had illicit school sex and he wants to talk about the newspaper,” Foggy says, to no one in particular, standing up to give Matt his seat at the computer while Karen leans over to start the screen reader. “I’m surrounded by lunatics.”   
  
“I know the feeling,” Mr. Urich says, darkly.  
  
He should probably be giving them detention for most of the things they do, but Foggy’s pretty confident he won’t do anything that could cause him extra paperwork. The public school system will do that to a person.  
  
*  
  
Karen founded the newspaper during their freshman year with some vague mission statement about truth and justice and dragged Foggy and, by natural extension, Matt into it. Secretly, they both care as much about truth and justice as she does, but personally Foggy was planning on saving up all that caring for law school and spending the next four to eight years just getting by on his charm and natural talent.  
  
“Think of how good it will look on your college applications,” Karen said, brightly, at the time.  
  
“I’ll be the photographer,” Matt had offered, and then Foggy cracked up and everything went pear-shaped and now he’s spent the better part of his high school experience writing copy and tracking down interviews and doing anything that Karen asks of him.  
  
It’s not that bad. He gets to hang out with his best friends all the time and, also, he’s figured out how to make Karen turn a really cool shade of purple just by mentioning turning the Gazette exclusively into a Twitter. Just the phrase “140 characters” makes her twitch a little, she is that obstinately dedicated to the art of print journalism.  
  
Okay, it’s actually a pretty sweet gig.  
  
*  
  
It’s 6:00 AM on a Saturday when Foggy wakes up to his phone buzzing relentlessly on his pillow. He makes a pterodactyl noise and gropes for it without opening his eyes, smacking it until it picks up.  
  
“I’ll murder you,” he mumbles.  
  
Unsurprisingly, it’s Karen, who says in a voice that’s far too awake, “Somebody got a picture of him.”  
  
“I’ll murder you and your family,” Foggy continues, still mostly asleep. “Picture of who? What’s happening? Why are you using your phone like a phone like it’s 2008?”  
  
“Our masked vigilante,” Karen says. “Somebody got a picture of him.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Foggy says. “Text it to me in like four hours, like a person.”

He hangs up. He shuts his eyes with the full intention of going back to sleep.  
  
He calls Karen back within three minutes.  
  
“Okay, I’m sorry, I love you, tell me everything,” he says, before she can say anything. He can hear her smile over the phone.   
  
“You’re a sucker for a good vigilante,” she says.  
  
“Something about a masked teen just beating the crap out of assholes really works for me,” Foggy agrees, “as a person.”  
  
“I’ll text you the picture,” she says. “Get Matt and meet me for coffee so we can go through the details."

*

“We’re on Vigilante Watch, Murdock, under Karen’s strict orders,” Foggy says, after Matt answers his phone with a sort of affirmative grunt. “Meet me outside your place in half an hour. Bribe a nun if you have to.”

“I don’t have to bribe a nun to leave, Foggy,” Matt says, blearily. His voice is always sleep rough when he’s just woken up, all deep and growly. Foggy should probably call him to wake him up every morning.

“You had to sneak out a window to see me one time,” Foggy says. “I remember because it was very romantic.”

“You called me in the middle of the night and told me that it was an emergency,” Matt says.

“It was an emergency,” Foggy says, fighting a smile.

“You were just high!” Matt says.

“I was _very_ high,” Foggy corrects him. “Now get your ass out of bed, I’m already walking there.”

Matt makes a disgruntled noise but says, “Fine,” before he hangs up which is basically akin to _Of course, Foggy, my best friend in the entire world, I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!_ in Saturday morning before 10 AM speak.

Matt is sitting on the steps of the Sacred Heart Children’s Home when Foggy walks up, knees curled to his chest. He’s wearing his beat-up black Converse and a hand-me-down sweater that’s too big for him, his hands tucked into the sleeves. Foggy is ninety percent sure that he didn’t brush his hair this morning, because it’s standing up in little cowlicks all around his head, which is actually the cutest thing that Foggy has ever seen.

“Hey, sunshine,” he says.

“Hmm, morning,” Matt says, smiling vaguely in his direction. “Why exactly am I awake again?”

“Because it’s a beautiful new day full of promise,” Foggy says. “And because somebody got a picture of our masked friend sometime last night and Karen needs to freak out about it.”

“ _What_?” Matt asks. He looks weirdly distraught. Way more facial expression than Foggy is used to from Matt. 

“And apparently you need to freak out about it, too,” Foggy says, slowly.

“How clear is the picture?” Matt asks. Foggy pulls his phone out with the picture up to hand to Matt then stops himself.

“I just tried to show you the picture on my phone,” he says, laughing. “Uh, it’s not clear. Just a guy in all black and a mask, you can’t make out any features.”

“Oh,” Matt says, pulling another weird face before getting to his feet. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Foggy nudges Matt a little when he steps down on the sidewalk next to him so Matt can feel where his arm is. He slides a hand over Foggy’s elbow, and, for some reason, it’s sort of shaking.  

“You good, bud?” Foggy asks.

“Huh?” Matt asks, then: “Yeah, fine. Just not really awake yet.”

“Those are the dangers of befriending Karen Page, unrepentant early riser,” Foggy says. If Matt leans a little more into him than usual as they walk, he doesn’t say anything about it and neither does Foggy. Frankly, he will take all the Matt Murdock cuddles he can get whenever he can get them


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to go buy a black turtleneck,” Karen says, happily, jumping to her feet and heading for the door.
> 
> “Why?” Foggy asks.
> 
> “Spy reasons!” Karen calls over her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update because apparently it's been almost a month?? Time isn't even real, guys. I just started working full time at my job and time isn't even real.
> 
> ALSO, [evpher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evpher) DREW ME ADORABLE FAN ART OF SLEEPY TEENAGE MATT WITH THE CUTEST BEDHEAD AND YOU [ SHOULD GO LOOK AT IT RIGHT THIS MOMENT](http://imgur.com/Z7gpvsO). I'm emotionally compromised over it.

There are two empty cups of coffee on the table Karen is sitting at when Matt and Foggy arrive, and she’s working on a third one. Black, if Foggy knows anything, because Karen’s a serious reporter with a deep-rooted sense of urgency and an iron stomach. She conveys this to them now by erratically waving a print-out of the vigilante’s picture in Foggy’s face.

“Front page,” she says, proudly.

“Is that what I assume it is?” Matt asks, making a face. “You want to put a blurry cell phone picture on the front page?”

“A blurry cell phone picture of _a masked teen vigilante_ ,” Karen says. “Yes, yes, I do want to do that.”

“You know, people keep saying that, but how do we even know he’s a teen, anyway?” Matt asks. He’s apparently woken up between now and when Foggy dropped by to walk with him. It’s barely 7:00, and Matt Murdock is apparently ready to fight.

“How do we—look at him,” Karen says, gesturing with the picture again, then swears quietly when she realizes her mistake. “Sorry, never mind. He’s got a dumb costume and he’s all limbs. There’s no way he’s older than eighteen, I'd put money on it.”

“Plus, eyewitness accounts,” Foggy adds, digging in his pockets for money. “The few assholes he’s beaten up who have actually spoken about it say he knew way too much about them to not be a student.

“I just think we need to be concerned about oversaturating the paper with gossip,” Matt says, voice firm. “We don’t want to end up becoming a tabloid.”

Karen gasps.

“Why are you being like this?” she asks. She whirls around to glare at Foggy. “Why’s he being like this?”

“I don’t know,” Foggy says, lightly. “I’m going to go buy coffee and let you find out.”

By the time that he’s purchased and received two large mochas, Matt and Karen are glaring at each other, her eyes narrowed dangerously and his eyebrows doing the thing they do over his glasses when he’s getting pissed off. Foggy briefly considers walking out the door and starting a new life, somewhere far away from here.

“Fine!” Karen’s saying. “I’ll just get my own picture!”

“How exactly are you going to do that?”

“With a _camera_ ,” she hisses, then finishes the rest of her coffee in one gulp, crushing the paper cup in her hand afterward.

“Alright then,” Foggy says, taking the seat next to her and pressing one of the cups in his hand into Matt’s. “Why do we have our collective hackles up today, kids?”

“Murdock here’s suddenly concerned about _picture quality_ ,” Karen says, “and—and _ethics_.”

“I’ve always been concerned about those things,” Matt says, primly, which Foggy is about 95% sure is a lie. Neither of them are really dedicated to the newspaper so much as they’re just lowkey scared of Karen and have nothing else to do with their free time. Admittedly, the recent rise in high school crime fighting’s made Foggy a little more engaged with it, but, if anything, Matt’s barely around to do more than write filler stuff for the middle pages.  

“That is actual bullshit,” Karen says.

Matt starts to reply, but Foggy cuts him off.

“Drink your coffee,” he says. Matt frowns at him, and Foggy continues, “Don’t look at me like that, with your _face_ , I’m a peacemaker. Now, Karen, what picture are you planning on getting yourself?”

“A picture of our vigilante,” she says. “A clear shot, with one of the school cameras. Possibly while he’s punching a jerk in the face, for dramatic effect.”

“Okay, sure. And how are you going to find him to get this Pulitzer Prize winning shot?” Foggy asks.

“I don’t know yet,” she says, shrugging, “but I will.”

“You’re going to get hurt,” Matt says, mostly to his coffee, sighing.

“He’s got an honor code. He beats up bullies,” Karen says. “I’m not a bully.”

“Well. . .” Foggy starts, then laughs when Karen throws her crumpled up cup at his head.

“You gonna help me?” she asks, half-smiling at him.

“Am I going to stalk a superhero in training with you?” Foggy asks, raising his eyebrows.

Karen’s smile turns into a full-fledged grin.

“Obviously,” Foggy says, throwing his hands in the air. “Obviously I am.”

“I’m going to go buy a black turtleneck,” Karen says, happily, jumping to her feet and heading for the door.

“ _Why?”_ Foggy asks.

“Spy reasons!” Karen calls over her shoulder, as the bell on the door rings. “I’ll buy you one, too.”

Matt’s still frowning, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why the angry kitten face, Murdock?” Foggy asks.

“I’m concerned about our _journalistic integrity_ ,” Matt replies, with arguably too much force, getting to his feet and starting to leave, too. Before he gets to the door, he turns around to retrieve his mostly full cup and say, equally fiercely, “ _Thank you for the coffee_.”

Foggy rests his face in his hands to watch him leave. As usual, he has no idea what’s going on.


End file.
